


Meddling

by BerityBaker



Series: Year Five 'Verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, M/M, Potterlock, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerityBaker/pseuds/BerityBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock tutors John beyond Potions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meddling

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little thing that I wrote for [holmesexualtension](http://holmesexualtension.tumblr.com/) because she was kind enough to draw me [this beautiful thing](http://holdencaulfieldin221b.tumblr.com/post/97366049571/jimmyjamms-john-groaned-himself-awake) to motivate me to think of the children. Hope this was worth waiting for since...I'm a few days later than I said I would be...

"I can't believe I let Harry put me up to this."

"And yet you did. Straighten your tie, we're going to be late."

In the two years he'd known him, John had hardly seen Sherlock so excited. It would have been a wonder to anyone else why he was looking favorably on a social gathering, but John was not a part of the ignorant masses in this scenario. He knew Sherlock Holmes better than he knew himself, which was why he'd agreed to orchestrate this event in the first place.

"Hang on, it's not on right," he replied sternly, but with a bit of fondness for the familiar 'Father Christmas has been here, how are you still in bed?' expression on Sherlock's face, one usually reserved for particularly gruesome and secretive high-profile cases.

"For god's sake, John." Sherlock slapped John's hands aside where they were attempting to adjust the poorly-done bowtie and untied it completely, bending his knees to match John's eye level as he began to fix it. "Of course it isn't tied correctly, Lestrade taught you the wrong way to do it."

"Well, we can't all be as knowledgeable about the ins and outs of formalwear as you are."

"I don't see why not. It is hardly a difficult task to do up a bowtie." Sherlock stood up straight and placed both hands on John's chest.

John stared at him, his curls tamed for the time being, hair-care potion evidently being Sherlock's friend for the night's event. Sherlock was always stunning, as far as John was concerned (provided he'd managed to keep an experiment from turning his face some unsightly color), but there was something about him tonight that John wanted to place, but couldn't. He doubted whether it was the perfectly tailored dress robes or the extra care he'd taken with his hair that made him so irresistible, but instead his excitement, the very same excitement he'd been trying to suppress all week.

"What?" Sherlock asked, and John realized he must have been staring for quite a while.

"Let's go!" he replied, not wanting to mention to Sherlock just how stunning he looked before he'd had a chance to bolster his own confidence.

On the walk from Gryffindor Tower to the Great Hall, they ran into Molly, whose dress robes were quite different from her typical casual attire of high-buttoned blouses and homely cardigans. In fact, if John hadn't had Sherlock, he might have given her a second look, but as always, he had eyes only for the ridiculous boy over whose arm he'd draped his own. He still said, "You look brilliant, Molly," and just barely refrained from commenting on the way Lestrade had stopped dead as he'd turned the corner and seen her.

Sherlock smirked, catching John's eye for no more than a second as Lestrade approached them, the same awestruck look on his face. When he finally cleared his throat and shook his head, John spoke.

"It's good to see you, Greg."

"Thanks. It is strange to be back, though. And supervising you lot. As an adult, would you believe?"

"No," Sherlock said.

"No?"

"You're hardly an authority figure, Lestrade. Not yet, at least."

Lestrade stopped in his tracks. After a moment he squinted at Sherlock. "How did you know?"

"Know what?" John asked.

"I didn't know, I noticed. You've had minor cuts and burns attended to recently. Your wand arm is slightly more tense than the other, and your walk has acquired a slight...swagger that it didn't have before. All the signs of an Auror-to-be. So tell me, when did you begin training?"

Greg smiled. "Couple months ago. I've missed you, Sherlock," he replied, and swept Sherlock into an unexpected hug.

Sherlock made a face, and John laughed.

They walked together to the ball, meeting others along the way, until they were an entourage entering the Hall, which was decked with more floating candles than usual, some with black or green flames, and jack-o-lanterns everywhere.

"John, it's beautiful!" Molly exclaimed, her wide eyes reflecting the eerie colours of the tiny flames surrounding them.

"Oh, I didn't do this," he muttered, cheeks going red.

"Still, thanks for getting this on. I've thought for years we should have a Halloween ball rather than just a feast, but I never thought it would actually happen."

Sherlock knew exactly why McGonagall had been so keen to allow such a simple request as this. After what happened last year, she owed John whatever he desired. John's blush deepened at the look Sherlock shot him.

Harry approached, her hair recently freed from an updo that hadn't lasted long. "Hello, John. Sherlock. Lovely evening."

At her tone, John glared. "Right. That's enough meddling out of you."

"Well, it's hardly bad manners to suggest you do something for your boyfriend after he...well, you know." John tensed, but she smoothed over the moment with a giggle. "And then of course when I found out how much he loved dancing..."

Sherlock's face may as well have been a radish at the memory, and John couldn't help but smile at the image produced by Harry's initial story, the one that had spawned the idea of a ball to begin with. As he'd waited for John in what had been the empty Gryffindor common room, Sherlock's boredom had gotten the best of him, and he was well into what Harry described as "a performance of epic proportions" when she came to the bottom of the stairs.

"Yeah, this is probably the best idea you've ever had," John conceded, still grinning.

"Yes, it is. But it's somewhat pointless if you don't get out there and do something about it," she whispered as she passed by him, headed toward a punch bowl with a glittering beverage inside.

An idea occurred to John as he watched her make her way over to it. "My god, I hope she doesn't try to spike it."

"She's doing well, John. No major incidents yet this term. I daresay she may make it through this year without being expelled," Sherlock murmured.

"Let's hope so." He glanced up at him. "So..."

"Yes?" Sherlock replied, trying and failing to hide the eagerness in his tone.

"Want to dance?" John pretended to suggest it casually, nearly laughing as he did so.

Sherlock feigned disinterest as well. "I dunno, I think finding a good place to sit will do."

John raised an eyebrow at him.

Sherlock's lips turned up at the corners, one of his genuine smiles, and took John's hand just as the beat of the music shifted, and a new piece was emitted from the quartet at the top of the Hall.

"A waltz," Sherlock mused as they stepped out onto the floor and both turned to face each other. "D'you know how to waltz?" He put his free hand on John's waist.

"I'm sure you'll teach me." He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sherlock's cheek. "I'll be an expert by the time I'm twenty."

"Oh, you'll be an expert much sooner than that."

"Will I?"

"Yes. I'm going to dance with you all night, John Watson."

+++

"No, right. Your right. For god's sakes, John!" Sherlock threw his hands up into the air and spun around dramatically.

"Christ, Sherlock, I don't know what you want me to do."

"Waltz!"

"I'm trying!"

He'd been trying for several minutes, over the course of which Sherlock had become more and more frustrated with his low skill level. They were lucky the group continued to play waltz after waltz, although John suspected Sherlock may have bewitched their instruments when he wasn't looking.

Sherlock scoffed, as though he didn't think John was trying at all.

"Well, go on then, how the bloody hell'd you learn how to dance?"

Sherlock paused. "Mummy taught us."

"Right. Okay. And how did she teach you?"

"She taught us the simple box step, and then the more complicated turns, and with each one, after we mastered it, she would--oh." Something had clearly just occurred to him that hadn't before. John stared at him suspiciously. "Yes!" Before John knew what was happening, there was a large hand on either side of his head, pulling it forward so that Sherlock could kiss his forehead firmly. "You are amazing, my conductor of light!"

"What have I done?"

"Positive reinforcement!" he shouted in triumph, earning strange looks from the surrounding students.

"Sorry?"

"It's a form of conditioning that Muggles have researched extensively. After each step we'd mastered, Mummy would give us a sweet. I suppose perhaps that's where Mycroft gets his affinity for devouring them, as he was always such a great learner."

"Alright, but, how are you going to...'positively reinforce' me, or whatever you just said?"

Sherlock leaned to murmur directly into John's ear, "Well, I'm not going to do it with sweets."

John shuddered at his tone, then cleared his throat. "Well. Alright, then."

"Shall we begin?"

"Absolutely."

Sherlock took John's waist again, this time only slightly touching, holding him at a respectful distance.

"Now, follow my lead. Put your right foot back as my left comes forward. Then step back to the other corner of the box with your left foot and bring them together. All in the count of three. Ready?"

John nodded.

Sherlock counted off two bars before very deliberately taking the first step, and was delighted to find that John had actually moved the correct foot this time. Just three beats, then a full stop halfway through the first box, but Sherlock took the fact that they hadn't tripped over each other at all as a victory, because John's dancing truly was appalling.

He leaned in for a kiss, then led him through the rest of the box and kissed him again.

Three boxes, three kisses, increasingly tender. Sherlock grinned with a certain playful twinkle in his eyes. "You're a fine dancer. How could you scare me like that?" His grip on John's waist tightened. "Can you turn?"

"I can try."

Sherlock smiled.

+++

John was, as it turned out, a perfectly adequate dancer when given the proper motivation, and a remarkable learner when it came to the more complicated nuances of movement. Three waltzes and a

stumbly, giggly tango later, the music slowed and John slumped against Sherlock, catching his breath from their previous fit of laughter.

Sherlock slipped his wand back into his pocket. He snaked his arms around John's shoulders as the musicians in the corner shot each other panicked looks which had escalated from simple confusion over the course of their dancing. He felt John shift his head so that his cheek rested against Sherlock's chest and he sighed, and Sherlock echoed it, and there wasn't anything he could do to keep himself from melting, resting his chin on the top of John's head and closing his eyes as they swayed. They took tiny steps around the floor, most of the movement in their upper bodies, each of them contentedly following the other's motions and smiling to himself.

"Sherlock," John said after a few moments.

"Hm?"

"I'm glad Harry meddled."

Sherlock let out a soft huff of laughter. "I suppose she does mean well. And it always seems to work out well for us when she does."

He felt John's cheek press against him as it lifted, his smile widening. "It does, doesn't it?"

"Let's just be glad she's on our side."

"Why wouldn't she be?" John's head almost shot up, but Sherlock caught it before it did.

"I'd be a less-than-ideal in-law."

"Please, she thinks you're brilliant. A little mad at times, and a bit of an arse, but brilliant. Of course," John continued, managing to lift his head gently against the hand at his nape, "she doesn't think nearly as highly of you as you deserve."

"On the contrary, John, I believe her opinion of me is rather accurate compared to your own."

"Sherlock Holmes, you are the most amazing human being, alive or dead. Don't you dare tell me I'm wrong."

"But you are."

"Shut up," John said fondly but sternly, pressing his lips gently to Sherlock's.

"As you wish," Sherlock replied, and held John tighter as the song ended. As John kissed him again, he was much too preoccupied to further bend the quartet's instruments to his will. He was busy being bent to the will of John Watson.

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. Tell me if there's something weird or wrong because I did not edit very thoroughly.


End file.
